


The Beginning

by uena



Series: The Sweetest Thing [34]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Online Dating, BFFs, Developing Relationship, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Prequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-30 13:19:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6425590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uena/pseuds/uena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brought to you by popular demand: Aramis' Online Dating Profile, and why Athos Doesn't Like It.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [princeyoungjaes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/princeyoungjaes/gifts).



Athos emerges from his room at half past eight in the evening. He’s dressed in old, ratty jeans and a previously white undershirt, which is now speckled with orange blobs of paint, to name only the freshest layer. His feet are bare and his hands encrusted with the same orange that’s decorating his torso. He’s been painting for hours.

He’s very cold, although he’s not aware of it - he’s not aware of anything much at the moment. His mind is still locked in a haze of creativity, still dwelling on the strange, wild landscape in his head that he’s been trying to bring onto his canvas for a week now. Today’s orange was a leap towards the finish line, finally made everything feel _right_. That mild sense of pleasure is banished when he walks into the bathroom and turns on the light - when he sees his own face in the mirror. He’s looking positively haggard, has dark, unforgiving circles under his eyes, and his bloodless lips add a ghastly flair to the whole.

Porthos won’t approve. Athos sighs. He hesitates for the fraction of a second, and then he strips and takes a shower. The warm water hurts his numbed nerve-endings, but when he eventually emerges from it he does feel somewhat better. He always does, after a shower.

His room is freezing when he returns to it to get dressed - which will happen when you work next to an open window in January for hours on end - and he tries not to look at his unfinished painting, doesn’t want to risk being pulled back in. He makes his escape still barefoot, wearing a pair of pants Porthos bought him and one of Porthos’ sweaters. Thus attired he appears in their living area, and finds Porthos on the couch, his old laptop on his knees, happily typing away. He looks up when Athos steps around the corner, and smiles at him, decidedly pleased. “Hey you. I’d quite given up on seein’ you today.”

Athos doesn’t dignify that with a response, and steps over to the kitchen area to make himself a can of coffee. “Did you eat?” Porthos asks him, determined to not be ignored. Athos makes an affirmative noise, although he cannot remember. “Today?” Porthos perseveres, and Athos sighs, allows his shoulders to droop.

“I might have forgotten.”

“There’s a plate in the microwave - you just have to heat it up,” Porthos says patiently. Athos hums, indicating that he’s heard him, and continues with his coffee preparations. “Make me one too, yeah?” Porthos asks him. “I think I wanna stay up a bit yet. Talkin’ to this one is fun.”

Athos pauses with the coffee can hovering above the stove, frowning heavily. Then he puts it down with deliberate care, and turns on the heat. “Someone new?”

“Yeah, he just signed up,” Porthos says, blissfully unaware of Athos’ emotions. “Already chattin’ up all the girls.”

Athos frowns once more. “That is a good thing?”

“On a datin’ website?” Porthos asks back. “I’d think so, yes.”

Athos hates that website. It’s not that he doesn’t want Porthos to find someone - he does, absolutely and unquestionably. He’s merely of the opinion that going about it in a space such as that, where you can write anything you like under pictures that do not necessarily have to be yours, is a mistake. Porthos certainly is popular amongst its subscribers, even if he continues to withhold a few details about his daily life - namely his job and everything that’s related to it. But he did post some very nice candid shots of himself, one or two of them shirtless, so Athos guesses that background information is not that important to the people who’ve expressed a desire to ‘lick that’.

It always makes Athos uncomfortable, people being so unashamedly sexual in a public space - even though it’s the internet. Maybe he should just stop helping Porthos vet possible candidates for a real life date. But that would be failing him as a best friend, wouldn’t it? And if Athos is quite honest with himself he does want to know everything Porthos is doing on that site, wants to know everyone he’s talking to. If only to protect him. Sometimes Porthos has no insight into human nature at all. He always believes in the best in people, even if there’s no such quality to speak of.

Athos doesn’t want him to get hurt. So he joins Porthos on the couch once the coffee is ready, sits down next to him and gestures at him to hand over the laptop. “Let me see.”

Porthos willingly exchanges technology for caffeine, and allows Athos to read through all his latest correspondence. After a while of silent perusal Athos gently clears his throat. “You were talking about this Aramis person earlier?”

Porthos dimples and nods. “A real charmer, isn’t he?”

“His pictures are certainly very attractive,” Athos replies evasively.

They truly are. But safe for his profile picture, Aramis isn’t alone in any of them. He’s always posing next to a girl, and they’re always kissing his cheek, or petting his hair, or even grabbing his butt. His profile informs the world that he grew up around women and knows a thing or two about ‘making them happy’, and although he doesn’t have ‘as much experience with the boys’, he’s ‘willing to learn’. Athos feels mildly nauseated.

In his correspondence with Porthos Aramis is playful and witty and compliments Porthos on the width of his shoulders, wondering what he does for a living to be blessed with such a ‘sturdy frame’. As if Porthos was a bed he’d like to jump onto at the earliest opportunity. But to point this out to Porthos when he’s so obviously pleased to have found Aramis would be far from kind, so Athos keeps his peace. For now.

Maybe Aramis doesn’t mean it like that. Maybe Athos is being unjust. His thoughts on the matter are cut short by Porthos getting up and starting the microwave. It seems that his patience with Athos’ eating habits has once more run out.

“You do know that I am perfectly able to feed myself?” Athos drawls when Porthos hands him the plate, and Porthos huffs and flops back down on the couch.

“I know that you like to tell yourself that. Eat up, will you.”

So Athos eats, while Porthos takes back his laptop and writes a few messages, possibly to Aramis. But then he shuts the laptop down and puts it away - puts his arm around Athos’ shoulders instead. Athos blinks at him in surprise. “I thought you wanted to stay up for him.”

“You’re all cold,” Porthos mutters, rubbing his hand over Athos’ stolen sweater. “You don’t even notice, do you?”

“I asked you a question,” Athos drawls.

Porthos grumbles. “I haven’t seen you for a week, you realize that? Let me spend my time the way I think best, yeah?”

So Athos gives in and relaxes into his touch, closes his eyes when Porthos pulls him closer. “You will never find someone if you allow yourself to be distracted so very easily,” he points out.

“Oh shut up,” Porthos grunts, leaning in to brush a kiss to Athos’ temple and take the bite out of the words. “Rest assured that I got my priorities perfectly straight.”


	2. Chapter 2

For reasons unfathomable to Athos, Porthos really starts to _like_ Aramis. He sends him numerous messages during the day, chats with him every evening after their first contact, and stays up late into the night for him more often than not.

Aramis continues to be incessantly charming; he calls Porthos _honey_ , or _love_ instead of addressing him by his given name, and appears to be entirely unable not to flirt. _You remind me of my sister’s husband_ , he writes late one evening while Athos is on the couch with Porthos, trying to read while Porthos happily clicks away on the laptop next to him. _You both give off the kind of aura that makes people want to be close - to cuddle up and relax._ Athos rolls his eyes and tries not to have a bad opinion about Aramis’ brother in law. Cuddle up and relax. Yes. Certainly.

Next to him Porthos smiles and writes back. _Cuddling with the roomie right now, so I guess you’re right._

Athos goes a little tense. On the one hand it’s very gratifying that Porthos talks about him so often - to all of his contacts on this godforsaken website - on the other he doesn’t want Aramis to know about him … about the relationship he has with Porthos. Few people ever understood their bond, and even fewer of them were ready to accept it. And those were people who got to know them in real life, not ones who had to grasp the complexities of their friendship through the code of the written word. Athos doubts that Aramis’ head is in the right place to even try.

 _I would love to see that_ , Athos reads, vaguely discomfited. _Do you have a picture of him so I can imagine it better?_

 _Naw, he’s shy,_ Porthos writes back. _You’ll have to make do with half of the visual_.

That’s when Athos lowers his eyes to his book with the resolve of a soldering iron. He hardly knows how to contain his indignation. He’s just glad Porthos shot that request down as soon as it came up. He’s made it without an online presence thus far, despite his family’s prominence. No newspaper or online forum has published his picture in years. Athos certainly does not intent to break the streak just to satisfy Aramis’ unwanted curiosity.

He manages to read a few paragraphs of his book and actually take in what’s on the page in front of him - then Porthos puts away the laptop. “You’ve been very quiet.”

“I am reading,” Athos drawls.

Porthos huffs. “Yeah. Sure. What is it?”

Athos closes his eyes and suppresses the impulse to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Don’t you find him a trifle … tedious?”

When he looks Porthos is blinking at him, honestly confused. “Tedious?”

“All he ever does is flirt!” Athos hisses. “I mean … it does not feel as if his heart was in it … to me.”

“Saw the part about the picture, did you?” Porthos murmurs, smiling that infuriating, understanding smile that Athos loves so much. “Don’t worry - I’ll keep you nice and safe from the naughty internet and its googly eyes.”

Athos wants to groan. “That is not it - at least not exclusively.” He could bring up all the instances that ruffled his feathers, could give Porthos a comprehensive list of what’s wrong with Aramis. But he remembers how Porthos replied to Aramis in those cases - that he took away something very much at odds with what Athos got from Aramis’ correspondence. It would be useless. Worse: it would be mean.

Porthos is happy with this new relationship; so Athos keeps his peace. Porthos is still looking at him though - searching, and a little puzzled. Athos musters a smile. “I fear I am just not made for written correspondence of this kind. I would need to meet him to form a proper opinion about his character.”

That statement makes Porthos grin and bump their shoulders together. “I already tried to get him to agree to meet, but he’s playin’ coy.”

Something heavy coils in Athos’ gut. “Does he live that close?”

Porthos nods, his eyes shining. “In town even. We both freaked out a little when we found out.”

Athos is freaking out too now, if not for the same reasons. Next to him Porthos stretches and sighs, happily oblivious. “I’m gonna ask him again tomorrow.”

 

“Oh my God!” 

Aramis is staring down at his phone with the weirdest little grin, and Constance inclines her head, smiles as well. “New message from your suitor?”

They’re having their lunch break in the back room, have turned up the heating system a little to ward off the February cold, and bravely combine Constance’s order of Mexican food with Aramis’ Polish specialties from the shop around the corner.

“He’s asked me for a date again,” Aramis says, breathless with overwhelmed amazement. “I thought he was kidding the last time.”

“You’ve been writing to each other for weeks,” Constance points out. “Why wouldn’t he ask you out?”

“Because he’s a real human being with real life responsibilities, and the online dating is just something to pass the time,” Aramis says in a small voice.

Constance stares at him. “Then why in the seven hells would you even stick with him?”

“Because he’s nice - and I really like the way he talks to me.” Aramis sounds both defensive and vulnerable, and Constance has to fight the urge to take him under her wing and introduce him to a proper gentleman who’d treat him right. She’s not sure she even knows any such gentleman. A somewhat frustrating revelation.

Then something occurs to her. “Wait, back that up a bit,” she demands, putting a hand to her forehead to keep a blossoming headache in check. “Did he actually _tell_ you that he’s just passing the time with you, or is that something you’re assuming, because … you’re you?”

Aramis blushes and stares very hard at his phone. Constance sighs. “Aramis. Answer me. Please.”

“He never said it,” Aramis mumbles obligingly.

Constance wants to ruffle his curls. “Then do us both a favour and go out with him. Because let me tell you this: I never see you so happy as when you get a message from him. He clearly deserves a real-life dose of you and your charms.”

That gets her the sweetest little smile imaginable, and she grins at him and offers him a bite of her Fajita. Once he’s chewed and swallowed that bite he does get a little doubtful though. “You really think I should agree to a date?”

Constance, very aware of his sad track record, frowns ever so slightly. “Would you prefer to keep the relationship online? Only ever talk to him over the computer and never hear his voice?”

Aramis looks properly dismayed at the prospect, so she grins again, a little lopsidedly, and shrugs. “Then I guess you should agree to a date.”


	3. Chapter 3

Athos is on his way to bed when Porthos returns from escorting Aramis home after their first real-life encounter. He’s cleared the living room table, washed his coffee and milk foam maker, had a shower and put on pyjamas, and now he has returned to the kitchen for a last mouthful of water before turning in for the night. He’s passing the front door just as it opens, and then Porthos is back, his happy little smile blooming into a giddy grin when his eyes meet Athos’.

“He is so cute!” Porthos gushes, pulling Athos in and lifting him up in a fit of uncontrollable, triumphant delight. “You should have seen his perfect little face after I’d kissed him good night - it was - it was _captivating_.”

Athos, his head closer to the ceiling than it’s ever been before, puts his hands on Porthos’ shoulders when he bounces him, and demands to be put down.

“And you!” Porthos growls, completely deaf both to the demand and the alarm in Athos’ voice. “You were so _nice_ to him …” He lets Athos down at that point, if only so he can hug him properly. “You were so nice, and sweet and perfect today …” Athos gasps when Porthos puts his ribs through the wringer, and weakly pats his back in an effort to pacify this excited puppy of a man-child. He takes a relieved breath once Porthos lets him, and clears his throat, just for Porthos to continue talking and cut him off. “All that sun in Italy must have really done you good, eh? … I really like your freckles, by the way.”

Athos clears his throat for a second time, lifts his nose. “Or I have just missed you.”

That makes Porthos pull back and put his hands on Athos’ shoulders so he can look at him properly. “Say again.”

Athos rolls his eyes, but obliges him. “I missed you.” The smile in Porthos’ eyes in reaction to the words is absolutely worth it. Athos allows his mouth to pull into a tentative grin. “And I am glad that you enjoyed your date so much.”

“He’s really somethin’, isn’t he?” Porthos promptly goes into raptures again. “The shyness really surprised me, but otherwise he’s just the way I imagined.”

Athos manages to contain his surprise, for as far as he is concerned the real Aramis doesn’t even come close to the online one. But he decides to let that go. Online Aramis doesn’t matter anymore. At all. Porthos lets go of Athos to take off his jacket and his shoes, and when he straightens he casts a considering glance over Athos, lips pushed out in a thoughtful little pout. Athos reaches out and knowingly pets his belly. “Want me to wait for you in your room?”

“Yes, _please_ ,” Porthos sighs. “If you don’t mind, that is.”

“I wouldn’t have suggested it, if I minded,” Athos says in a light tone of voice. “And I just told you that I missed you.”

“I’d tell you to fly to Italy more often,” Porthos grins, shoving him into the direction of his bedroom, “but then I really don’t want you to.”

They part then, Athos taking the first door on the left to step into Porthos’ room, while Porthos continues on to the bathroom. He joins Athos in bed a short while later, slides beneath the covers and pulls Athos into his arms, sighs. “This is so nice.”

Athos agrees, thinking to himself that it will have to come to an end should the relationship with Aramis prosper. As much as he actually likes the real Aramis, Athos doesn’t believe that he’ll tolerate this closeness between himself and Porthos. No-one ever did. “So tell me,” he whispers. “Tell me everything.”

Porthos grins and rearranges Athos in his arms so he can spoon him. Athos cannot help relaxing into his embrace as Porthos tells him about his date with Aramis in lovingly rendered detail. “There’s just somethin’ about him,” Porthos muses once Athos is in possession of all the facts. “So much _life_ that wants out … so much light.”

He sounds thoughtful and utterly besotted, and Athos smiles to himself. “I like the way he looks at you.”

“Yeah?” Porthos asks, audibly pleased, and Athos hums in confirmation.

“I was afraid he would turn out to be the flighty type - superficial and … passing. But there is something surprisingly solid about him, despite the fact that he was poised for flight for most of today.” Athos strokes the arm encircling his middle and closes his eyes. “It is as if he regards you as a safe place to rest.”

“Well, I’d like to be that for him,” Porthos replies, sounding just a little bit overcome. “And to be honest I didn’t think you’d be this quick to speak favourably of him.”

“Neither did I,” Athos says, honest and simple. “But I like him. I really do.”

Porthos gives him a squeeze then, and brushes a kiss to Athos’ neck.

“He has a nice smile,” he murmurs. “Not just a pretty one - but _nice_. A good head on his shoulders, too. We talked a lot, online, while you were away, and I like his opinion on things. He’s … sensible, most of the time.”

“Oh, what did he say to incur your displeasure?” Athos whispers, grinning almost despite himself.

“He likes the prequels,” Porthos informs him, voice flat.

Athos chuckles. “Unbelievable.”

“Right?” Porthos grouses. “At least he admits that they don’t really fit in with the original movies.”

“Yes, you said he was sensible,” Athos teases.

Porthos pulls him a little bit closer. “You’ll have brunch with us tomorrow, yeah?”

“You do not want to be alone with him?” Athos asks back, forehead slightly creased. “I do not think that the two of you need me as a buffer.”

He can practically hear Porthos roll his eyes behind him. “I wanna know who the fuck came up with the idea that two people romantically involved only ever wanna be with each other. Do you realize how borin’, lonely and stupid that is? Sure, I wanna get to know Aramis better, but your presence’ll hardly interfere with that, plus I want to you two to get to know each other, too.” He clears his throat, and gives Athos a gentle shake. “If things turn out well with him you’re gonna see a lot more of each other, and it would be kind of nice if that won’t result in you trying to leave every time he sets foot in the apartment.”

“Strangely enough, he did not instill any desire to flee in me today,” Athos smiles. “I find his presence very … pleasant.”

“Good,” Porthos says, disproportionately satisfied.

Athos sighs. “Just … promise me something?”

“Depends on what it is,” Porthos replies carefully.

Athos sighs. “When I eventually do flee - do not blame him unless I tell you to? You know how I am.”

“Do I ever,” Porthos mutters, cuddling Athos a little closer. “Though I must say this protectiveness is new, and rather intriguing. I might have to tell Aramis all about it tomorrow mornin’.”

Athos smiles and slaps his hand. “Oh, do shut up and go to sleep.”


End file.
